


Something New

by bobthebobking



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Communication, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Kissing, Misunderstandings, Post-Piccolo Jr. Saga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobthebobking/pseuds/bobthebobking
Summary: After not seeing each other for the three years leading up to the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, Bulma and Yamcha have some catching up to do. Once they've had time to get used to having each other close again, Bulma offers to fulfil one of Yamcha's fantasies.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> these first two chapters are sfw, but it will be getting into explicit territory by like. the third chapter? i think. i'll add the appropriate tags when i actually get around to writing that KDJNKDJ anyways, enjoy!!

After training hard for 3 years and all the insanity that Piccolo Jr. brought with him to the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, it was nice to finally get a chance to sit down and actually relax. Yamcha had gone back to Capsule Corp with Bulma and Puar after everything was said and done. The tournament had been put on hiatus after the near-total destruction of the island, so Yamcha figured he had some time to spare. 

He hadn’t stepped foot in the large, dome-shaped compound in the better part of three years. Each time he returned after a long period of training felt a little like the first time, when he was just a kid from the desert used to a life of banditry and the largest building he’d been in was maybe a quarter the size of Bulma’s home. With each homecoming came a sense that he was an outsider, that maybe he actually shouldn’t be here- but just like the times before, he knew the feeling would pass soon enough. Puar on his shoulder and the large duffle bag of items he’d accumulated over the years on his back, Yamcha followed Bulma to his room, even though they both knew he could have made it there on his own.

Walking up to his door, Bulma unlocked it with the swipe of a keycard- the one he’d given back to her for safekeeping before he left to train. She then turned around and held it out to Yamcha, a warm smile on her lips.

“It’s nice to have you back, Yamcha.” As she gazed up at him, he noticed her eyes flick to the scars on his face. He’d seen her do it outside the tournament grounds, too. What did she think of them? Was she disgusted, or just not used to them yet? Maybe both? He didn’t think they were that bad... Pushing these questions out of his mind, he gave a smile of his own and accepted the keycard.

“It’s nice to _be_ back.” Puar nuzzled into his neck with a happy chirp, Yamcha gently placing his hand on top of her as a sort-of hug. He’d missed his cheerful little friend so much, and it was obvious she’d missed him too. She’d barely left his side once she was finally able to see him after his match.

Bulma stepped out of the doorway to let Yamcha walk in, Puar letting out a high-pitched yelp when he immediately threw himself face-first onto his bed. He laughed from deep in his chest and sighed- he hadn’t realized how tired he was until his bed was in front of him. Yamcha was fully prepared to fall asleep just like that, still in his gi and unshowered, when he felt Bulma smack the back of his leg before scolding him.

“Yamcha, we _just_ cleaned those sheets! Get yourself washed up and changed before you pass out, you weirdo.”

With that, she left the room, leaving Puar and Yamcha to share a look and laugh. Yamcha then got up off the mattress and headed for the bathroom. He’d missed this on his travels- the large, luxurious, facilities of Capsule Corp that clearly displayed their wealth. Quickly turning the shower on, disrobing, and stepping under the stream of warm water, he took a few moments just to revel in the feeling of the nozzle’s high pressure against his worn out muscles. As he began washing his hair, he marveled at how long he’d let it get. The past two tournaments, Bulma saw him often enough to tell him to get his mop cut as soon as it got past the tips of his ears. Three years without her reminders gave it the chance to grow out. Without it tied up in a ponytail and with the weight of the water it was well past his shoulder blades. 

Yamcha took his sweet time in the shower, not getting out for another thirty minutes. He thought Puar would still be in the room waiting for him when he was done, but it seemed she’d given him a chance to get dressed alone. Not long after he slipped into the new, loose pair of sweatpants and plain tshirt Bulma had left him, the woman herself came knocking on his door.

“You can come in!” Yamcha called as he carefully squeezed water out of his hair with a towel. Bulma entered, softly shutting the door behind her and sitting next to her boyfriend. She didn’t try to hide how she watched the slight shift of Yamcha’s biceps with each press of the towel. He smiled, embarrassed and blushing, when he noticed her gaze. Yamcha had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be observed by the confident eyes of Bulma Briefs. When he finally finished with his hair and put the towel around his neck, Yamcha and Bulma just sat there, quietly studying each other. Being able to really look at her now... the three years they had been apart were clear as day. 

The 19 year old he’d left with a hug and a kiss was not the woman sitting in front of him now. Bulma definitely made the most out of those years, trading out lingering baby fat that had given her a soft look for a sharper jawline and slightly defined cheekbones, looking every bit like the CEO she was going to become. Yamcha wondered if she was thinking anything similar about him. Did he seem any older? He knew he was stronger, but did his maturity grow along with his power? He wasn’t sure, since the way he turned to mush under her gaze clearly hadn’t changed at all. Gosh he wanted to kiss her. _Had_ wanted to since he first saw her outside the gates of the tournament grounds, but there just hadn't been any opportunity. Bulma’s teasing voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hi there, gorgeous.”

A shared moment of shy laughter. It was as if this was their first time alone, all tentative smiles and soft looks. They tangled their fingers atop the mattress in the space separating them.

“I really missed you, Bulma...″

“Me too, Yamcha,″ the softness in her voice proving it to be the truth.

Once they managed to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds without looking away, they both finally leaned in for a kiss. It was gentle, sweet, and filled with the longing they didn’t really know how to say. Yamcha rubbed his thumb across the back of Bulma’s hand.

“I wanted to do that so badly all day,” Bulma said against Yamcha’s lips after it ended. The man let out a relieved snort of laughter. 

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me!” They both smiled into another kiss, the energy between them hinting at something more...

It took everything Yamcha had to pull away.

“Not tonight... I’d really rather just sleep,” he murmured, apologetic. Bulma brought the hand that wasn’t in Yamcha’s grasp up to his face, resting her palm against his jaw, smiling when he leaned into her touch.

“That’s alright, don’t worry, big guy... can I sleep in your bed with you?”

Yamcha smiled appreciatively. She was so good to him. “I’d be honored, Miss Briefs.”

And so they lay together under the sheets, comfortable in each other’s embrace, getting the best rest either of them had in years.


	2. Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamcha blows up a bit when he gets tired of Bulma staring at his scars.

As Yamcha settled back into the routine of living at Capsule Corp, he also settled into regular interactions with Bulma. The two gradually got back into the habit of sharing their personal space with one another, holding hands, trading kisses, and soon enough were back to fooling around in Bulma’s bedroom.

This return to the familiar heat between them was very much welcome, the both of them eager for a taste of each other. They’d been teasing each other for a while, both stripped down to just their underwear. Yamcha had just finished leaving rough kisses along the length of Bulma’s body and was sitting back to admire his work, when he noticed it again.

Bulma, slightly out of breath, unable to stop looking at his scars.

Yamcha couldn’t handle the scrutiny anymore- she’d been doing this for weeks now! Why didn’t she just say it, how ugly his scars were? Why was she even letting him in her bedroom? Why not just tell him to leave, if she was going to keep looking at him like that? Yamcha looked down at the mattress, hiding his face, his scars, behind a curtain of hair.

“… If you really can’t get over them I can go, Bulma,” he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his low voice.

Bulma sat up on her elbows, confused, “Yamcha, what-”

Yamcha let out a harsh sigh, “You don’t have to pretend, you know? I can take a hint. Just, you could’ve _told_ me instead of looking at me like I’m some _freak_.”

He moved to get off the bed, but Bulma grabbed his right hand with both of hers before he could walk away.

“Yamcha just- hold on! What’s going on?”

She held onto his hand tightly, and even though it would have been easy for him to pull away, he stayed. He kept his head down and turned away when he spoke again.

“My _scars_ , Bulma, you keep… I see you looking at them and I can’t help feeling like- like you’re just _pretending_  to still want me, and I don’t…” he turned back to look into Bulma’s wide eyes with his own conflicted ones, “If you’re only doing this because of some moral obligation, then we can stop.”

Bulma could barely think of anything to say.

“Yamcha, sit back down. Please.” She tugged on his hand, and the man reluctantly did as she said. Bulma rubbed both of her thumbs along the back of Yamcha’s hand in a way she probably hoped would soothe him. He kept his gaze averted as he sat on the edge of her bed.

Yamcha was perplexed; Bulma seemed genuinely concerned… did he just read this whole situation wrong? Had he just been projecting his own feelings onto something that wasn’t even there? Was his mind playing some anxiety-driven prank on him?

Kami help him and his stupid, impulsive ass.

“I…” What was he supposed to say? ‘Oops, sorry for blowing up at you over my own insecurities! Can we just forget this happened and get back to the foreplay?’ Yamcha sighed.

Bulma started talking, softly like he might run away if she spoke too loud, “Babe, you gotta talk to me. Why would you think I don’t want to be with you? What’s wrong with your scars?”

The sincerity in her voice almost made him want to cry.

What a sight that would have been, Yamcha thought- him in just his boxers, in tears, running to his bedroom through the long hallways of Capsule Corp. He should probably start talking to avoid that.

“I just… I left you looking like a normalass guy and came back with half my face covered in scars, then I saw the way you kept _looking_  them and I. I just assumed you were looking because they were too ugly to ignore.” He brought his left hand up to trace the slightly wrinkled skin on his cheek. “That’s how _I_  felt about them after they healed, at least…” That last part was mumbled, with a sort of bitterness that he should have gotten over long ago, but which seemed to come back again and again every time he was reminded of his marred flesh. Bulma’s hands tightened around Yamcha’s.

“Yamcha, if I thought your scars were ugly I would have told you that the first time I saw them.” This got a huff of a laugh out of the man. “Plus, when have you known me to do anything that I didn’t actually want to do?”

She had a point there. If something wasn’t on her agenda, she wasn’t very likely to go out of her way to get it done. He was starting to feel like an idiot, like this all should have been obvious, but he replied anyway.

“Never?”

“Never.” 

Bulma rearranged herself so that she was sitting to Yamcha’s right, still holding his hand in her lap and now fiddling with his rough fingers. He looked down at her as she continued speaking.

“I’m with you because I _want_  to be, alright? I missed you so much while you were gone, missed being with you like _this_.” She brought her left hand up to the scarred skin under Yamcha’s eye with a small smile. “And honestly? I think these scars suit you. They make you look a little dangerous…” she paused as Yamcha saw mischief flash in her eyes, “plus they’re super hot. That’s a lot of the reason I haven’t been able to take my eyes off them, really.”

Yamcha had been totally enraptured by Bulma’s kind words until the hot comment, and lightly pushed her away with a surprised shout of a laugh. Bulma let out a squawk as she was pushed, and they ended up laughing together for a few minutes.

When they finally caught their breath, they laid back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling and threading their fingers together.

“Sorry for freaking out like that, Bulma. I guess I was just scared.”

“Of me?”

“Nah, more like… of not being good enough for you anymore after all this time.”

“Aww Yamcha~” Bulma rolled onto her side, hugging Yamcha’s arm and resting her head against his shoulder, “You’re such a softie.”

“Only for you, Bulms,” he replied, blushing from their proximity. He’d kind of forgotten that they were both still in their underwear. 

They sat like that for a bit, just enjoying each other’s presence and the calm understanding that came after laying out their feelings. After a while Bulma spoke up.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

“Hell yes.”

Yamcha threw his clothes on to go grab some popcorn from the kitchen while Bulma picked out a movie. When he came back, Yamcha quickly climbed under the blanket with Bulma and settled into the comfortable warmth as they focused on the television. They both ended up falling asleep halfway through the film, spilling their bowl of popcorn on the comforter.


End file.
